


Can't Fight The Moonlight

by Swing Set in December (swing_set13)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves, my loose interpretation on various lore, random pop culture references, saucy make outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/pseuds/Swing%20Set%20in%20December
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a vampire isn't all it's cracked up to be. Though it does have it's perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Fight The Moonlight

The thing about blood is that it's messy. Not really romantic. Sure, it's addictive. Delicious. Rich. All the things those Anne Rice shills out. But you have to get it directly from the source or it's pretty congealed and disgusting. And Stiles has a harder time feeding off wildlife than humans. The last deer he tried to drain reminded him of Bambi and he ended up staging an impromptu funeral to ease his guilt.

Bloods banks have the same problem. Raiding them is easy but people actually need that blood. And if it's not fresh it tastes more ashy than anything.

It's at these times that Stiles wishes half the lore that the media spits out about vampires is true. Like being able to eat food. He wishes he could sit down and eat greasy French fries and throw back a beer, even a shot of bourbon. But food doesn't mesh with his metabolism. So he'll sit and gloomily watch _Cake Boss_ with his fangs digging into his bottom lip.

The whole day walker myth isn't true. Nor is a mystical ring that would make him do cartwheels in the sunlight. Despite a century of research. So he's strictly a night owl now. Which sucks. Pardon the pun. But he misses it. As much as he misses ice cream sundaes on hot summer days. Well, if they had sundaes when he was alive. He would have loved them. He consoles himself that at least he doesn't sparkle. That would have been embarrassing to live with.

The bit about invitations is true. It's kept him out of a few places. He's lucky that his family's estate is still in his name. He's gotten pretty good at compelling people. Though he feels it's kind of cheating when he can compel someone to let them feed on them. Though it saves him from trying to pick up girls from bars. Guys too for that matter. He's never really gotten the hang of dating. Dating wasn't a thing when he was alive. Neither was plumbing so he's not going to get judgey.

He one of the more adaptable vampires he knows. He has a smart phone and understands the benefits to online banking.

His sire was his first kiss. The late Lady Lydia Martin. He would have given anything for a moment of her time while living. Now his devotion has waned to a friendship, especially since he can no longer consume cake. He misses cake. Lydia says he's being melodramatic. But he's seen the way she looks at freshly baked apple pies to know she's lying.

The thing about being mortal enemies with werewolves? It's true. Well, as far as Stiles knows. But he's only met a couple of werewolves in his undead life and they've all been surly and snappish. So he assumes it's a thing.

So it's not a surprise to meet the claws of one in a dark alley.

"Vampire," the werewolf hisses, claws extended and eyes flashing crimson.

"Seriously, I'm not in the mood," Stiles says moodily. He's hungry and tired. He just wants to curl up in front of TV in his hotel room and put back a fresh blood bag he managed to liberate from a friendly nurse. She donated it, he was just lucky she was working at the blood bank.

He shoves past the wolf only to be thrown up against the brick wall of the alley.

"Ok, ow," he glares at the wolf. "What crawled up your ass and died?"

The were growls and Stiles sighs. "I haven't killed anyone, I'm in town on business. Legitimate business. The non supernatural kind."

The crimson eyes assess him for a moment before inhaling the air between them. Seeming convinced at Stiles' honesty, the werewolf eases back on its heels and Stiles straightens his hoodie. "Was that so hard?"

"You're in my territory," the werewolf declares.

Stiles snorts. "Look, as much fun as I would have throwing you through the wall, I don't want to, so let's stop this alpha posturing. I'll apologize to Beacon Hills pack master tomorrow."

He totally forgot about paying his respects. Though he didn't want to. So yeah, it slipped his mind.

The werewolf arches his left eyebrow. "You can do it now."

"I don't see Peter Hale around, do you?" he says sarcastically.

"I'm pack master," declares the werewolf.

"No shit," Stiles says in disbelief. "When did that happen?"

"Recently," he says tersely and Stiles senses that it's all terribly dramatic and pack related. He's kind of relieved, Peter was always a douche towards him. And rude to Lydia. Like vampires were beneath him. Clearly he read to much into Team Jacob.

"Finally, I swear my sire wanted to gut him ten years ago," he grins, all teeth.

The were barks out a booming laugh and his shoulders become less tense.

"My manners are rusty, what with me being hungry and cranky," says Stiles. "I'm here to sell a house. I'll be out of this town before you know it."

He knows how werewolves get with vampire stink. Lydia loves to regal him with tales of her escapades with a wolf named Jackson who couldn't stand her scent. Apparently the sex was inventive. Though he apparent ran off with another wolf. Stiles is still trying to repress those memories. Lydia moped for twenty years. It was embarrassing. There's only so many times a man can watch _An Affair To Remember_.

"Selling?" asks the were, his demeanor shifting.

"My late grand grand grand nephew's house, well more than grand, but the years blend and all," says Stiles.

"I'd hate for vampires to feel unwelcome," says the wolf.

Stiles snorts. "You wanted to fight me not a while ago, remember? Is that the Beacon Hills welcome wagon?" he asks. "'cause it needs work."

"Derek Hale," the wolf says gruffly and Stiles can see the faint flush of embarrassment on his face. "Welcome to Beacon Hills."

"Well that looked painful for you," snarks Stiles. "Stiles Stilinski."

He puts his hand out, because if anything he was raised a gentleman, no matter how many centuries it's been.

Derek takes his hand and it feels like lightening strikes him. His senses are reeling. He feels the steady thrum of blood rushing through Derek and he feels like a newborn all over again, filled with bloodlust. His fangs extend and he wants desperately. He feels the whispers of sunshine and feels a heat that he thought he had forgotten. He abruptly pulls away and like a gate closing, the sensation is gone. He meets the shell shocked gaze of the pack master.

"What did you do?" he chokes out shakily but Derek looks as bewildered as he feels.

"It can't be," says Derek, his voice wrecked.

"What?" his voice sounding hoarse in his own ears. Stiles is confused, and it's saying something since he's pretty well versed in most things. But that moment of sunshine and warmth calls to him. He wants to curl up into Derek and not let go. It's all very new and frightening. He hasn't been scared since his first blood lust and now everything is flailing out of control.

"You're mine," Derek finally says in awe, like Stiles is Christmas and Easter rolled into one immortal package.

"I'm a vampire, if anything, I belong to the night," Stiles says, awkwardly trying to steel himself from mauling Derek.

Derek growls in a low pitch that has Stiles wanting to climb him.

"You think my first choice would be a _vampire_?"

"Hey, watch it wolf boy," Stiles says in offense because really, he's a catch.

Though he barely has time to brace himself before he's pulled forward into Derek's embrace. He fits perfectly into the werewolf's hard muscled body and Derek noses at his throat before worrying the patch of skin above his carotid artery with his teeth and bites down firmly. Stiles has been undead long enough to admit that the sounds coming from his mouth are manly whimpers. And not wanton at all. His fangs extend and the pulse of Derek's blood is too alluring to resist a taste. The moan that Derek lets out at Stiles' first pull of blood has him hardening against the wolf. The blood is everything blood shouldn't taste like and more. It's addictive and Stiles could spend an eternity drinking it. He feels Derek's pulse slow minutely and he reigns himself to pull back despite Derek's own moan of protest. They settle into a primal dance against the brick wall, battling for dominance using their mouths. Stiles can't complain though he feels the pinpricks of warning that the sun is rising.

"Wait," he stutters between kisses. Derek whines in protest as Stiles uses his strength to push distance between them. He already misses the warmth that permeates from Derek's very being. "The sun."

Like an icy bucket of water, the haze between them breaks.

Stiles takes a deep breath, while unnecessary, it centers him. Derek's wild eyes rake over him and fall on his bite, raw and open on Stiles' neck. It's twin, bright red on his own shoulder.

"My house is a block away," he says.

It takes less than a blink and their back to rutting against each other on Derek's porch. It's the sharp warning of the sun that pulls Stiles back from sucking Derek's tongue.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he gasps.

"That goes without saying," murmurs Derek.

"Yeah, but I still need you to say it," groans Stiles.

"Won't you come in?" growls Derek.

"Thought you'd never ask," grins Stiles. "Now, where are my manners? Let's try your pants."

Maybe Beacon Hills is worth checking out. If anything, the sight of Derek Hale's ass is reason enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so be kind. Comments are love! ♥ Again, I was trying to fall asleep. It was around 2AM this time, so progress. And I was plugged into my iPod, the song _Riboflavin_ started to circle at the same time I was trolling meme. Loosely based on the prompt where [ Stiles is a vampire](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/2069.html?thread=1138197#t1138197). *facepalms* How do I keep writing these things? I know not why. I am sleepy now but promised a day out shopping with friends so I'll be groggy and blah while trying to muster up enthusiasm over dress while leaning into the dressing room wall. Originally, the fic was going to be called _Closer_ after the multiple recs for song inspiration from you darlings but I know not what I do. I blame trying to watch the newest _The Vampire Diaries_ and failing because of all the dead links. Oh, and missing my weekly dose of _True Blood_. I apparently get too much of a kick at writing fics where Stiles is supernaturally inclined.


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